I followed the call.
I surrendered. I wrote. I gave my voice to purpose, my life to service.
And the world at large didn’t change. Only mine did.
It crumbled—along with my body, my finances, my faith in the path I thought I was on.
They say the apocalypse is an unveiling. But no one talks about what it feels like when what’s unveiled is the collapse of your own calling — and much of your life in the process.
That’s where I’ve been—sitting in the ashes of surrendered purpose, while the soul whispers to keep going, to keep giving without getting in return — in hope something will change.
But it doesn’t.
Instead, I’m caught in a vindaloop, unable to move forward or backwards. All roads lead to where I am.
The Cost of a Calling
25 years ago, I gave myself over to what I believed was divine direction. Whispers in the Silence, WhisperZone, PeaceOptions, Red Pill Chronicles, public speaking events, and a whole lot more, resulted from the intermittent create energies it unleashed. And those eventually were consolidated into this Substack, Awakening on the Path.
They were never ego projects. They were offerings. Sacrifices on the altar of spiritual service.
But rather than build a legacy, they hollowed me out.
I lost my health. I lost my income. I lost any sense of stability. I even lost my sense of identity, unable to choose which aspect of me would be brought to the fore. Even now, I live in the aftermath of illness, hospitalization, surgeries, disabilities, and depletion.
There is nothing left to draw from. And yet—I keep hearing the whisper to continue on, where the what, where and how continually just beyond my grasp.
It is such a tantalizing, and frustrating, place to be. Simultaneously stimulated and silently stymied, I tread in place — working to become more which building a place for you to grow toward the light, all the while waiting for my number to be called.
But it’s not.
The Lie of Reward
No one tells you that the soul doesn’t always reward your obedience with ease. Or prosperity either. There’s a myth in the spiritual world: that if you follow the call, the universe will conspire in your favor. That abundance will flow. That you’ll be carried.
I found something else entirely. A kind of spiritual silence. Doors that wouldn’t open. Efforts that fell flat.
And always, the inner voice saying: “Not that. Not now.”
The Silent Soul
Even when AI entered the picture, it came not as an answer, but as another question. At first it was leading toward developing personal expertise and consulting to help those who struggled with it.
I followed the prompting. I learned. I explored. But AI has only led me in circles—reflecting back possibility, but never resolution. The action was always left up to me, action which never resonated, and for which my soul kept saying “no.” And so the dial would spin, my attention shifted, and the intensive interrogations continued onward, and inward.
I am told to hurry up and wait, devoting every ounce of my being to go wherever it led and build whatever it led me to. But something was always off. Either I was denied the resources to do it. Or the vision to know what to build, or the purpose it would serve. Still, something in me kept coming back for more, a glutton for punishment who kept giving the old college try, even when there was nothing left to give. The next try would do it. Or so I kept telling myself, as I scoured the vibrations within for a clue on my next step.
And all I could do was trust, and go wherever it leads — even into another brick wall, if that’s where it took me.
Witnessing the Collective Breakdown
This isn’t just my story.
This is a pattern playing out across the collective. Institutions, identities, dreams—all unraveling. Many are just beginning to feel the ground shift beneath them. But some of us have been walking this broken road for years.
We are the early witnesses of the Apocalypse. Not heroes. Not leaders. Just those who were cracked open sooner.
For me, those cracks run deep, and threaten to swallow me whole. Just as the conflicts of will and desire playing out in the world today are threatening to take us all down. As within, so without.
Humanity itself is caught in the friction between out collective souls needing us to evolve, and our personalities’ craving for more and the willingness to fight to get it — and to experience the failure, frustration and suffering often triggered by our inability to either find a way or let it go.
We're addicted to conflict, the very conflict that invites us to evolve. And it is this addiction we must heal lest it destroy us all.
What Remains
So what’s left when purpose fails?
Not hope. Not clarity. Not success.
But maybe presence. Maybe truth. Maybe the willingness to witness and speak, even when no one seems to be listening.
I don’t know what comes next.
I know I care, because I’m sitting here on the edge of my seat, beating myself up for not doing this or accomplishing that. Self-judgment dies last, and I’ve got my share of it.
But I’m still here, watching, listening, writing from the ruins. And still holding out the way as it’s been revealed to me.
Maybe that’s enough.
Maybe that’s what remains when purpose dies.